


Advanced Bathing Etiquette

by theimprobable1



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Friends to Lovers, Hair Washing, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimprobable1/pseuds/theimprobable1
Summary: Troy offers to wash Abed's hair. Things escalate from there.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 9
Kudos: 166





	Advanced Bathing Etiquette

Troy likes sharing a bathroom with Abed. It means they can brush their teeth together or one of them can be taking a shower while the other is shaving. Troy’s dentist has been very happy with him ever since brushing his teeth stopped being boring, and long showers are definitely less lonely when Abed is just on the other side of the plastic curtain. So they’ve seen each other naked plenty of times. They are very comfortable with each other. It’s not awkward.

Or it didn’t use to be.

There’s an etiquette to seeing other people naked, which is that you can _see_ them but you can’t _look_ at them. Troy knows this thanks to his extensive experience with locker rooms and communal showers. That’s just how it is. You keep your eyes to yourself. You don’t look at other people’s surprisingly toned abs. Or their strong, muscular thighs. You definitely don’t look at anything at the juncture of the abs and the thighs. 

And Troy hasn’t looked, okay? He hasn’t. He doesn’t ogle Abed. That would be creepy and inappropriate. But he’s noticed lately that some of the accidental glimpses he’s caught of Abed’s naked body were perhaps not so accidental. And that if he were allowed, he would probably really _like_ to look. In a way that’s definitely out of the bounds of platonic friendship.

But Troy is determined to ignore that. Because Abed is his best friend, and Troy having these kinds of thoughts could ruin things. He can’t let that happen. So he tries not to think about it and goes on as before and doesn’t go out of his way to avoid being in the bathroom at the same time as Abed even though he feels like he should, since Abed would definitely notice if he did and then it would be just a matter of time before he figured out the reason. 

Which is why Troy is here now, brushing his teeth at the sink in just his pajama pants to avoid getting toothpaste on the shirt, while Abed is taking a bath. He spent the day helping Pavel’s mom move house, and he says a hot soak helps relieve sore muscles. There’s foam floating on the surface, so it’s not like Troy could see anything even if he was looking, which he definitely isn’t. It’s not his fault there’s a mirror right in front of his face and he can’t avoid catching glimpses of Abed’s relaxed face and the tops of his shoulders and his lean upper arm draped over the edge of the bathtub...

Abed slides down in the water until his hair is submerged, his knees breaking the surface and exposing long, dripping slopes of thigh and shin. Troy tears his gaze away from the mirror, spitting out toothpaste. When he looks up again as he replaces his toothbrush next to Abed’s, he sees Abed reaching for a bottle of shampoo, his hair plastered to his skull.

What Troy should do right now is leave, since he’s done with his teeth and there’s no reason for him to linger in the bathroom anymore. What he does instead, because his mouth is way too close to his brain and his brain clearly doesn’t work well when faced with too much of Abed’s exposed, wet skin, is turn around and say,

“I can wash your hair for you if you want. I mean, if you’re still sore.”

He immediately wants to slap himself. Abed may have strained his muscles a little, but he’s definitely not incapable of washing his own hair, and Troy’s offer is far from being motivated purely by selflessness. 

Some surprise shows on Abed’s face when he looks at him, but he agrees readily. 

“Okay. Thanks. I guess you know all the professional hair-washing techniques from your hair-dressing class.”

“Oh! Yeah, totally. I’m very professional,” Troy says, trying to reassure himself more than Abed. He was very good at that class, actually. (He would have been top of that class if Jeff hadn’t sabotaged him.) He does know how to wash hair like a professional, in a way that’s completely unrelated to the fact that he really, really likes Abed’s hair.

Of course, people usually aren’t completely naked in a bathtub when they have their washed by a professional, but Troy simply isn’t going to think About that.

He thinks for a moment about how best to approach this, then he sits sideways on the closed lid of the toilet, which gives him easy access to Abed’s head.

Abed wordlessly hands him the shampoo bottle and leans back, closing his eyes. Trusting Troy completely to take care of him. It strikes Troy suddenly how _intimate_ that is. Even disregarding the whole nudity thing, which Troy is disregarding totally and completely. They’re two best friends, in their home. It couldn’t be more different from a hair salon.

Swallowing thickly, Troy squirts some shampoo onto his palm, rubs his hands together and gingerly touches the crown of Abed’s head. Maybe it’s because Abed’s eyes are closed, or because touching him automatically makes Troy relax, but his nerves disappear as soon as his fingers begin moving in Abed’s hair. The fact is that while this might be the first time he’s washed Abed’s hair, it’s not unfamiliar. Abed likes having his hair touched. It’s what Troy does when Abed gets upset: he strokes his hair, drags in fingers through it, massages his scalp. It makes Troy happy to be able to do that for him. And this is sufficiently similar, so Troy is positive it feels good to Abed. 

As if on cue, Abed releases a small, satisfied sigh as Troy kneads his scalp with his fingertips.

“This feels nice,” he murmurs. “You’re very good with your hands.”

Heat rises in Troy’s cheeks that has nothing to do with the steam in the room.

“Thanks. I like doing it.”

They could talk about something – the latest Inspector Spacetime episode, Annie’s transparent attempts to trick them into eating vegetables, their plans for spring break – but for some reason it feels right to stay quiet in the hush of the bathroom, the only sounds being the occasional splash of water, the movement of Troy’s fingers in lather and the soft, almost inaudible fizz of the foam. Abed’s face is slack and relaxed, he almost looks asleep, and looking at him makes Troy feel warm all over. He keeps going for far longer than necessary, moving his fingers in repetitive patterns, but eventually he has to ask Abed to move a bit so he can rinse his hair. He thinks he catches a glimpse of disappointment on Abed’s face.

And then they’re done, and there’s no more reason for Troy to keep touching Abed or to stay in the bathroom at all.

“There you go,” Troy says quietly, smoothing his hand down Abed’s hair one last time for absolutely no practical purpose as he gets ready to get up. Except then Abed shifts and leans forward.

“Can you get my back while you’re here?” he asks.

His voice sounds completely normal, but this isn’t a normal question. Historically, Abed has never needed help washing his back; it stands to reason that he doesn’t need it now. So if he’s asking, it can only mean that he wants Troy to stay, to keep taking care of him. Because he likes it.

“Sure,” Troy says, heart pounding. He grabs a washcloth but quickly realizes that his current position won’t allow him to reach Abed’s back properly, so he folds up the bathmat and kneels on it by the side of the tub instead. Which brings him even closer to Abed than he was before, the expanse of smooth wet skin of his back right in front of him. He lathers the washcloth and runs it slowly over the bumps of Abed’s spine.

He’s not touching him directly, there’s no skin-on-skin contact, but Troy honestly isn’t sure he’d survive if there was, it almost feels like too much as it is. He moves his hand slowly over Abed’s back, mesmerized by the trail of suds left in its wake. Or rather by the fact that he’s allowed to touch Abed like this. He takes his time, making sure to go over every bit of skin several times in slow circular motions, noting every tiny mole and freckle, because he simply doesn’t want to stop. And when he has to, because you can only pretend to wash someone’s back really carefully for so long before it becomes ridiculous, he drags the washcloth over Abed’s shoulder and down his upper arm. If Abed wants him to stop, this is the moment to tell him – he’s clearly done with his back, but if Abed lets him, if Abed _doesn’t_ want him to stop…

Abed leans back again, his eyes closed as he rests his head against the rim of the tub, and does nothing to indicate he has any objections. As Troy moves the washcloth down his arm, he lets out another contented sigh. He really likes this, Troy thinks giddily, almost overwhelmed with the knowledge. He doesn’t know what it means, if it means anything, but that’s a problem for future Troy. Right now, the only thing that matters is that Abed likes it, that Troy is making him feel good. 

He keeps his motions at a slow, steady rhythm, moving back up Abed’s arm, along his collar bone and to his neck. Abed inclines his head to the side to give him better access as Troy rubs the soft skin there, wishing he could feel it under his fingertips. Under his lips. He’d lean in and kiss him right there, under his jaw, breathing in the scent of the soap, feeling the warmth of his skin, feeling the soft humming sound Abed made just now reverberate in his throat. 

He makes slow progress, washing the other side of Abed’s neck and his other arm before moving to his chest. He runs his hand down the center of Abed’s chest, dipping his hand under the surface to the top of his stomach and then back up again, rubbing over his pecs and feeling a nipple harden in response to his touch. Abed hums again, a sound unlike anything Troy has ever heard him make, so Troy rubs over the nipple again, and then the other, and he thinks Abed’s chest is rising and falling a little faster now, his face a little more flushed. Unless it’s just Troy who feels overheated and breathless, his heart pounding simultaneously in his chest and inside his skull, because he doesn’t think that what they’re doing can be mistaken for hygiene anymore. 

His hand slips under the surface again, stroking Abed’s belly (that’s what he’s doing, he’s stroking him, caressing him, touching him with no other purpose than to make him feel good), down his side to his hip and the top of his thigh.

Abed lets out a loud breath through his nose and his knees fall open as much as the bathtub allows. Feeling like he’s standing on the edge of a precipice, Troy inches his hand along the crease of Abed’s thigh.

He gasps when his knuckles brush Abed’s cock, and so does Abed, a shudder running through his body. He’s hard, fully, completely hard, just from the way Troy has touched him. _Is_ touching him. Troy isn’t sure he’s breathing when he strokes down his length for the first time, seeing the tensing of Abed’s muscles, hearing the hitch in his breathing, and _fuck,_ he’s _big._ The glimpses he’s caught of Abed over the years didn’t prepare him for how it would feel to have his erection right under his palm, long and thick and _just for Troy._

Unable to bear it any longer, Troy drops the washcloth, touching Abed with his bare hand, and Abed _moans._ It’s small and quiet, but without any doubt the hottest thing Troy has ever heard. Emboldened, he wraps his fingers around Abed and sets a slow, tentative rhythm. He’s never done this before, not to anyone but himself, but it feels natural in a way he wouldn’t have thought possible, because it’s _Abed,_ and he’s _so beautiful._ Troy can’t take his eyes off of him, his taut muscles, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the bath, his head tilted back, his long throat exposed, his chest flushed, and his _face._ It’s almost his normal Abed face but it’s not, there’s tension in his features that Troy has never seen before, his mouth slightly open in a sigh, and Troy knows him, he knows him so well that even though this is completely new he can still read him, he can tell when he does something that Abed really likes, he can tell when Abed wants him to go faster, stroke him harder, and he can tell when he starts getting close. He’s making little _ah_ sounds that make Troy feel like he’s being set on fire, and he’s rocking his hips very slightly, and Troy is absolutely certain that he’s never wanted anything more in his life than to see Abed come and be the person who makes it happen.

When it happens, it’s incredible, the best thing Troy has ever had the privilege of witnessing, because he doesn’t just see it, he can also hear it, Abed’s low, bitten-off groan, and feel it, feel Abed’s cock twitch in his hand as Troy strokes him through it, and Troy never knew that somebody else’s orgasm could feel so intense. He’s breathless and light-headed with it, but then it’s over, and it’s like a switch has flipped. The spell is broken.

Troy becomes aware of his own insistent erection, and his knees hurting, and that he’s somehow managed to drench the right leg of his pants. Not to mention the undeniable yet impossible reality that he’s just given a hand job to his best friend in a bathtub.

He’s suddenly breathless in a much less pleasant way. Abed opens his eyes and looks at him, and if Troy thought he could read him before he definitely doesn’t now, he has no idea what this new look in Abed’s eyes means and what just happened and what it means for their friendship and are they still best friends if _Troy gave Abed a hand job in a bathtub_ why did he think that was a good idea what’s wrong with him what if this changes everything or what if doesn’t change _anything_ what does Abed think about this does this mean Abed is gay or maybe it doesn’t matter with hand jobs a hand is a hand and Abed’s eyes were closed the whole time does he want it to happen again what if he doesn’t what if he does what if things get weird now and they stop being friends what if Troy’s brain just explodes--

“Troy?”

He stumbles to his feet, and the next thing he knows he’s out of the bathroom and out of the apartment and out of the building, which is where the cold hits him, reminding him that he’s outside with bare feet and wearing nothing but wet pajama pants, and the shock of it clears his head a little.

He’s overreacting. Running out of the house half-naked on a cold March night seems like a sensible reaction to a fire, or possibly a ghost sighting, but not… whatever just happened. Not to mention that he ran out _on Abed,_ and that’s just unacceptable. Abed won’t know what’s going on. Not that _Troy_ knows what’s going on, besides the fact that he’s kind of freaking out, but that’s no reason to abandon Abed without explanation. He’s promised to Abed to always explain his reactions when they might be unclear, and he’s pretty sure that having sex with someone and then running away qualifies as unclear. ( _Does_ this count as sex? He’s not sure, but either way, running away is not on.) Abed could be freaking out too, _because of Troy,_ so Troy should be with him. 

He can’t have been gone for more than a few minutes, but in that short time he’s been through so many emotions that it feels like much longer. The bathroom door is still open as he left it, and when he approaches he finds Abed buttoning up his pajama top. Abed looks at him, eyes wide.

“Um,” Troy says awkwardly. Abed’s hair is standing up a little from the way he dried it with a towel, and his cheeks are still a little flushed, and his fingers are moving nervously over the buttons, and all Troy wants to do is to take him in his arms and hug him because that would calm him down and he’s certain that everything would be clear after that.

“Are you okay?” Abed asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Troy nods, even though his heart is still going overtime. “I just… Sorry about that.”

Abed tilts his head to the side. “Which part?”

And Troy knows what this question means. Why did he think he couldn’t read him? He can. It’s Abed, and Troy knows him better than anybody. It means ‘do you regret what happened?’ It means that Abed is feeling just as unsure about this as Troy is.

Troy swallows.

“The – the running away part.”

Abed’s posture relaxes minutely. “So not the rest of it?”

Troy shakes his head, keeping his eyes fixed on Abed with far more bravery than he really feels. “Not unless you are.”

“I’m only sorry I didn’t get to return the favor.”

Troy feels his cheeks heat, his treacherous mind immediately supplying vivid images of Abed’s long fingers wrapped around his dick, but he tries not to get distracted by that. “But. You’re my best friend.”

“Okay?” 

“So… does this mean we’re like, best friends with benefits now, or what?” Troy asks, and then the words just pour out of him. “It’s cool if that’s what you want, we can do that, but I think I want more than that and I don’t want to make things weird between us by wanting too much, and I feel like I took advantage of the situation here and I didn’t even kiss you first, and…”

“Troy,” Abed interrupts him, stepping closer. “I want more than that, too.”

Troy blinks, and he feels like the world stops for a second as the meaning of Abed’s registers in his mind. 

“Oh,” he breathes, staring at Abed’s face, soft and open and so full of feeling it takes Troy’s breath away. “You do?”

“Yes. So you didn’t take advantage of anything any more than I did.” His fingertips ghost over the side of Troy’s face, and if Troy stopped breathing for a second there, he’s breathing faster now to make up for it. “And you can kiss me now.”

When Abed says it, his lips are already so close to Troy’s that it takes no effort at all, Troy just has to lean in a little and he’s there, kissing him, kissing Abed, and all the remnants of his panic just seep straight out of him with how right it feels. He grabs a fistful of Abed’s pajamas to pull him closer, and then Abed’s arms are wrapping around him and his tongue is swiping into Troy’s mouth and Troy’s pretty sure he moans, desperate to feel more of Abed _now_ as a full-body shudder runs through him.

“Cold?” Abed asks into his mouth, rubbing his palms over the goose bumps on Troy’s arms that he must know have nothing to do with temperature. “I could draw you a bath…”

*


End file.
